


May I Have this Dance?

by MrsJohnSmith



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:42:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6040381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsJohnSmith/pseuds/MrsJohnSmith





	May I Have this Dance?

No matter how much time had passed, no matter how close the two of you were, no matter the walls you'd broken down together, Dean was still reluctant to let anyone see his truly soft side. It was only in moments like this. Just the two of you hiding from the next apocalypse, whiskey easing the aches and quieting for fears just for now.

You pulled up the playlist you made for nights like these. Dean always protested in some fashion, but you knew deep down he loved it, if only for the excuse it gave him.

"May I have this dance?" He held his hand out to you and how could you ever resist? He pulled you close to him, swaying gently to the soft music.

You laid your head on his chest and closed your eyes savoring the moment. The words of love, forever, soulmate were never spoken by either one of you. There wasn't a need for it, not when there were these moments. You trusted him completely, loved him entirely, would do anything for him. Time and again your actions and his proved it without a doubt.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled back to look up at him. His mossy green eyes were sparkling with joy, with love and his lips were curled in that soft smile that filled you with peace.

"Grandma? Grandma!"

You turned slowly, heart beating rapidly as you looked down on an unfamiliar face. Turning back towards Dean you found the space before you empty, your hands holding on to air.

"Grandma, dinner's ready."

The boy with familiar green eyes turned with a scowl and left you alone, not in a motel room, but a bedroom. Your bedroom. How long had you been lost this time?

Shuffling over to the dresser a wrinkled hand with skin far too loose reached out for the picture frame. Your hand, you reminded yourself. With a sigh, your hand traced over the picture, you and Dean on the back of the Impala. His strong arm was draped around you, almost crushing you down. His gorgeous hair was a little long and the laugh lines around his eyes had come out. Some long forgotten joke in some place you'd probably never remember again.

And he was so young. You didn't think that at the time. Both of you had lived through so much. But looking at this, he was young. Eternally young. He'd always be that age to you, that full of life and fire, bravery and jokes. Because he'd never gotten the chance to get any older.

"I'll see you soon." You kissed the frame, placing it carefully back in its spot.


End file.
